A True Valdemaran Hero
by Melitza
Summary: A different spin on the typical Valdemar tale... When danger strikes, Delila proves that Heralds aren't the only heroes of Valdemar.


Disclaimer: I don't own Valdemar… I just live there…

Delila crouched so as to get a better look at the aqueduct in question; with a trained copper eye, she assessed the damage the poor thing had taken through years of indifferent neglect. She wrinkled her nose a bit in disdain as pieces of the the cracked and unkempt coating flaked off beneath her testing finger. The condition of the water-tract, in short, was not good. Fixing it was going to be quite a "dandy". She didn't need to turn and look to know that the innkeeper was twisting his hat in his hands nervously behind her. She shook her head, tucking a rampant strand of her thick copperish-brown hair back into her no-nonsense braid.

"Nasty build-up you have here, sir," she concluded simply as she stood to smooth the front of her blue tunic. The tunic was the only bright article of clothing she was wearing; everything else was quite the modest norm for a commoner. Dusty tan britches, an oversized-sleeved white blouse, and knee high 'mucking' boots (brown colored, soft, worn-leather). With some amusement, Delilah noted that she hadn't come home any fancier than she had left it (probably much to the chagrin of her home-town villagers, who had expected her to come back in the same kind of glory a Chosen might have). Two years studying at the Collegium hadn't changed her small-town style, and nor had a two-year internship working for a noble family in Haven.

Delilah's from disdainful frown twisted smoothly to an unruly smile. Perhaps she hadn't changed, but the way her townsfolk treated her had changed—and she savored the respect.

"Can ye fix it?" the man asked nervously, looking at the aqueduct desperately, as if he could see what she did. He was shifting nervously from foot to foot, and his hat was beginning to look worse for the wear. Delila smiled at him reassuringly, which seemed to qualm his fears a small bit.

"Of course I can!" He seemed relieved as she took out her notebook, scrawling some notes down on the paper. "My tools haven't gotten here yet, they're coming in a caravan and should be here within a few days."

"Ye think that medicine for the babies will be here by then?" the man asked worriedly.

Delila nodded. "I imagine so. Anyway, I'll come back when I have the tools to fix the cracks, but I'll have to break through and have you send someone in through the inside to clean it out first. Then I can go through and mend any more growing cracks from the inside. Ok?" He nodded, his head bobbing so hard she was afraid he might hurt his neck; obviously he had been afraid that it would require a lot more than that. With one final nod, she walked to the door, gathering her cloak off the peg before dispelling into the torrential downpour outside.

It had been raining hard ever since she had arrived home. Even though she hadn't been home for any significant time in the past four years (two years Artificer Training in Haven and the two years spent as an intern for a rich family doing major remodeling on their keep), she still had enough sense to know that this kind of weather was not normal. Glancing up from beneath her hood, she picked out the form of a Herald crossing the bridge over the river into the town. Upon picking out the pair, she sighed and headed towards her small cottage, located at the edge of town. Her boots made sucking noises as she fought to pull them from the mud with every step.

It wasn't that she was disappointed to see the Herald. Heralds were good people, after all; dedicated and brave. 'If a little fool hardy,' she added to herself, chuckling.

But fool hardy or no, the fact was everyone seemed to think that Valdemar depended solely upon them. The citizens of Valdemar often, in their stargazed wonder, overlooked the other heroes of the day—Guards, Bards, Healers—and yes, Artificers. She loved being what she was; she loved designing and building and equations and scrolls, and obsessed over them like a child who simply couldn't stop playing with a new, foreign toy.

Delila didn't envy Heralds their job. She had never been one for camping - and no one in their right mind enjoyed being in danger! But... Well, children never come running from their homes in excitement upon _her_ approach to a town. Schoolchildren never looked at her and sighed, "I want to be an Artificer when I grow up." No one ever looked at her Artificer-blue tunic and proclaimed her to be a hero.

With a resigned sigh, Delila brushing her doleful thoughts aside. Delila pushed open her cottage door and threw her cloak upon a peg, tossed her boots off to the side with child-like abandon, and flung herself onto an oversized pillow on the floor. Perhaps it had not been a good idea to come home, afterall. Maybe it would be a better idea to work in a neighboring town, where people wouldn't so readily know her, and patronize her like the same young child she had been when she left?

She spent her evening poring over a stack of parchments, reading and rereading figures, measurements, and changing minute details on diagrams she had fashioned herself. Once her tools arrived she could begin using her evenings more to her liking—using her hands, creating things. It was with fevered thoughts of designing and building bridges that Delila drifted into sleep that night...

So engrossed was she in her own excitement she was that she did not even pay any mind to the rain, which only fell harder and faster throughout the night until it sounded like a million hands beating upon the earth.

And so, the frantic pounding on her door didn't wake her from her restful slumber. In fact, she didn't wake up until someone started shouting from outside her small cottage...

"DELILA, DELILA!!!" a woman's shrieked battled against the wind and rain to get the slumbering Artificer's attention. "DELILA, THE RIVER'S FLOODED!"

_The rivers... flooded?_ The words slowly permeated her sleep-befuddled mind - but when they finally did register, she shot out of bed like hell itself was on her tail. Blindly, she yanked on clothes and boots and sprinted out into the storm. The wind had kicked up terribly overnight and ripped angrily at her cloak; lanterns swung madly in peoples' hands as the villagers gathered at the far end of town. By the time she approached the scene, she had already figured out what all the hullabaloo was about.

A tree had fallen into the river somewhere upstream, and was now caught up against their small bridge, the current trying to slam it past, but without enough clearance to do so. Any moment the river might surge and the bridge collapse under the trees force. Several young children were sobbing in terror as the bridge moaned and creaked under the force.

"THAT IS THE ONLY BRIDGE BACK TO HAVEN!" cried a woman hysterically from the crowd; the pouring of the rain muffled the other shouts from the mob. Delila was a bit confused.

"Why are you so worried? It is only a bridge," the Herald stated matter-of-factly, stepping from the crowd. Delila almost gaped at him; 'only a bridge'? Did he even realize how much 'just a bridge' meant to a small town like this?

"This flood will probably have wiped out most of our harvest, meanin' we'll be needin' new seeds to plant in order to have somethin' to eat this winter. This is the only bridge for furlongs; by the time we get someone to Haven to be askin' for help, and bring 'em back, it might be too late. 'Sides, lots of our fields are on the yonder side of the river. What wi' the mage storms wreakin' havoc and all, we 'aven't an' they 'aven't got the supplies to feed us for the winter. Also, we're 'spectin' some medical supplies from Haven any day now, for that rash the babies 'ave."

"You haven't gotton the supplies already?" Delila asked, shocked. She had taken a look at some of the babies herself, and that rash hadn't looked good. The man merely shook his head.

"Add ta that, they'd have to go about a weeks ride upriver once they realized the bridge was out here to get a ferry—'n even then, the ferry might not be runnin' what with the flood n' all. Could be a long time 'fore we could ge those supplies 'cross. The river is wide and fast enough WITHOUT a flood t' mess it up!"

Delila merely shook her head, and edged forward. The bridge was creaking precariously, and the river had swollen terribly. Several of the people were looking at the Herald hysterically, crying out for him to help, but he was obviously dumbfounded. Finally, he called out above the rain.

"Shardi and I will attempt to pull the log out of the river…" he called out uncertainly, and the look on his face was a miserable one. He had no idea what to do; he and his Companion couldn't pull that huge log out of the river, and he knew it.

_Well. I think maybe - a lever. Yes. That might do it..._

"I have a better idea," Delila called out above the rain; the Herald's eyes shot to to her, his face filled with cautious hope. His Companion, who had come forth to stand by her Herald at some point during the proceedings, regarded her with calm blue eyes from beneath wet silver forelocks. The townspeople looked to her desperately; for a moment, she was overwhelmed by all the attention, but she got over it quickly enough, and took command confidently. "I want everyone to bring rope, as much rope as you can. And chains, if you have any; harnesses, leather strips—whatever strong binding you might have." For a moment, the people were dumbfounded, and didn't move. "NOW!" she cried, and they scurried away quickly. When people began trickling back, she began making teams, giving each a different command.

"You five children—you know knots, right?" The children nodded, and she came over and knelt by them. "Begin tying the rope together, like this, you see? These are sailors' knots; tie them together until they are about this long—see? Good!"

The time seemed to go by in slow motion; the bridge creaked ominously. Finally the ropes were done; she took the ends and threw it up over a thick but not overly high tree branch, so that the ropes was draped half over each side. She then began matching up all of the townspeople in "teams", a different team per each rope, giving each team a different number.

"Ok, folks, we are about to play the biggest game of tug o' war you have ever seen; the winner gets the bridge. Got it?" With that, she gave the final rope that wasn't over the limb to the Herald. "Tie this to Shardi's harness, then come with me, please!" The Herald made no attempt to argue, and was scurrying along at her side soon enough.

"What are we going to do?" he asked, breathless. Delila handed him several ropes.

"Teams 1-5 and Shardi are going to pull against the current to get the log parallel to the shore, and then all of the teams are going to pull together to get it up over the bank and onto dry ground; the limb is working as a pulley, and Shardi and 1-5 are working as the fulcrum of the lever."

"Oh… Will it work?" he asked, surveying the scene to size it all up himself.

"Let's hope!" she replied. "Now I'm going to go to the very end to tie the ropes there, and you are going to tie these nearest the riverbank. I hope you are good at log-walking and knot tying!" He didn't reply, and soon enough she found herself crawling along the huge log, the icy cold waters lapping at her legs, the river trying to pull her in….

Though the icy water numbed her fingers, she wrapped her legs tightly around the trunk and resolutely began her work. She tied her ropes around every large limb she could find on the tree, even tying around the tree itself, using so many intricate knots and windings that she wasn't sure she'd be able to get the ropes off later. When she looked up, she saw that the Herald had already completed his few ropes and was waiting on the bank; a terrible groan came from the bridge, and Delila realized she didn't have the time to get back to shore.

"SHANDI!!!! 1-5!!!! TELL THEM TO PULL, NOW!!!!" she screamed above the roar of the river, and the Herald shook his head.

"If the ropes break, you'll fall in!" he shouted back, but her voice left nothing to be argued for.

"DO IT NOW!!! THEY WON'T BREAK!!!" With that said, she wrapped herself tightly around the tree trunk, and closed her eyes so that the debris in the river wouldn't impair her vision. The current pulled hard against the straining townspeople, and Delila was ducked repeatedly beneath the freezing water; the tree bobbed in the water, allowing her a few short breaths before sinking and taking them back again...

The tree began to move, and she could feel the crews straining against the current to pull it. It seemed like forever, and it was an uphill battle the whole way… Several times the current tried to snatch the tree back, but every time the townspeople fought that much harder…

"EVERYONE TOGETHER NOW!!!!" she shouted as she felt the tree hit the bank, and the townspeople began to strain together. The rain pounded at her, but now she could no longer feel the icy-cold river waters. The pulling continued for what seemed like forever…

Suddenly, a ragged cheer filled the air, and she dared to open her eyes. The tree was several feet from the riverbank, and the Herald was in process of arranging people to drag it off further; he then approached the tree tentatively, the worry written clearly on his face.

"Delila?!" he cried, and his called was joined by several other townspeople. She pulled herself from the limb, and stood up in plain view.

"I'm here!" she called back enthusiastically through chattering teeth.

"Thank the gods you had a smart girl like Delila here to save you!" the Herald told the townspeople enthusiastically, smiling knowingly at the cold and soaked Artificer.

The crowd cried out in jubilant unison, and the townspeople surged forward as a mass to envelop their Delila. "OUR HERO!!!" came the chant "Thank the gods we have her!!!!" "Delila, would you help us build more bridges to prevent this in the future?!" "What would we do without you?!" "Please say you are going to stay with us!" Their admiring eyes and appreciation warmed the young Artificer's more than any fire ever could.

Delila had always been a Hero of Valdemar, but even so, it felt so good to finally be recognized as such!

This is an older work, but I still like the concept… Lemme know what you think!


End file.
